


Rosin Up Your Bow

by landrews



Series: Brother 'verse [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Plotty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landrews/pseuds/landrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of his rash decision to bring his Mother home has Steve playing as hard as he can to keep both his soul and the golden fiddle of his Five-O ohana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosin Up Your Bow

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Through 4.2 for spoilers- informed in intent/mood by Brother 'verse fic. But you don't have to have read the two fics, just assume that there's occasional S/D taking place and their relationship is undefined and undisclosed. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine- characters owned by Lenkov, CBS, et al- Just commandeering them for a short time and some transformative fiction-
> 
> A/N: 1) Interlocked codas/missing scenes for _**4.1**_ Aloha Ke Kahi I Ke Kahi (We Need One Another), _**3.24**_ Aloha, Malama Ponoa (Farewell and Take Care) _**3.21**_ Imi Loko Ka 'Uhane (Seek Within One's Soul), _**3.18**_ Na Ki'i (Dolls), _**3.5**_ Mohai (Offering) - incorporates very minor amount of dialogue from 3.21, written by Bill Haynes, and 3.24, written by Peter Lenkov/Ken Solarz/David Wolkove.
> 
> Title from "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" by the Charlie Daniels Band. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed. Yell for errors.

 

 

_**5.**_

Despite their desire to blow it all off in favor of ice-cold beer, clearing the scene and all the weapons used with CSU, letting the medics check them out, getting the initial Five-0 paperwork done, getting NCIS involved since, intentionally or not, the Navy played an implicit role in Cath's kidnapping, and debriefings with Denning and the Chief took hours and more hours. Insurance is going to be a bitch this time between the tech table and both Danny and Chin's personal cars. 

Danny had slipped out on him sometime before midnight. And that was fine. That was good. He had Gabby waiting for him. And Steve can do this. Be here at home without him after a bad case. They go their seperate ways most of the time these days, anyway. And it's not like he's alone.

He sits on the beach in his oldest sweats, tee shirt balled up beside him, toes keeping him anchored on the sand, and sips a second beer. Danny's voice has echoed in his head all night, just a little louder than his Dad's. 'I have your back. Always.'

But it's Catherine asleep in his bed. He'd finally shared the first beer of the night with her, passing the bottle back and forth as they stripped and let the water run to hot before stepping under the spray. After sluicing the water from their skin, careful over the bruises dearkening on her side, his hip, he didn't bother with towels before showing her exactly how much she means to him. 

But he didn't say the words. He couldn't. He loves her, but she's not his. Or he's not hers, maybe. He doesn't know. All he knows is that he wants to call Danny so bad he's half-hard again. His skin's fever-hot and his muscles aching. He knows addiction, up close and personal. He's careful these days. But somehow, without his permission, Danny has become his drug of choice.

The waves are small ripples in the moonless dark. The hush-hiss of them slipping onto and off the beach again is quieter than his thoughts. He drains the beer, but his mouth keeps filling and he has to swallow against his need, his throat tight.

He'd give anything, almost anything, he corrects himself, thinking of the slide of his hands over the silk of Cath's back, the heated clutch of her closing around him as he shut his eyes and let go, to have Danny here beside him. Right now. He needs the callouses of Danny's fingers closing on his biceps, the bite of his teeth in his neck, the hard thrust of him pushing him down into the sand. He needs the grit and abrasion of that sand against his skin. 

Everywhere. 

He gasps. Finds himself on his back and throbbing with just the thought of it, opens his mouth and gulps the wet air, opens his eyes to see the stars staring down on him cold and unyielding, feels again the lift of the 'copter taking him off his feet. He hadn't even yelled 'runner'. His heart had clawed its way into his throat when he saw that empty driver's seat, caught the asshole's motion in the corner of his eye. 

Solitary had come rushing back to him, the catcalls, the promises and threats, Victor's shank ripping through his belly, the hot flood of blood and, backed up against the wall of Max's bathroom, that helpless slow slide into the dark. There'd been nothing he could do to stop it. Denning would have his head if he didn't get them all. The new Captain, he was right. Immunity and means mean nothing unless you always win the day. 

He fists the sand at his sides, caught up again in that terrible lonliness of prison when all he craved was Danny's steady voice. He can't get enough air. Brushing his right hand across his sweats, he thumbs the edge down just enough to stroke himself. The sand sticking to his hand only inflames him. He closes his fist and braces his feet down hard, to thrust into it, sliding on sweat until the bare skin of his shoulders breaks and burns, but he can't get there, he can't get there and he still can't get the breath he needs. He needs Danny's voice, his sharp eyes, his hard edges, his fucking, stupid ass faith that Steve will get him killed. 

He's become Steve's talisman. 

Pure dumb luck, Cosi grabbing a breath, his heart pounding back into life on the dregs of blood left in his system. Steve had only done it for show, pumping Cosi's chest, and Danny knew it. Knew the guy was dead meat and deserved it after taking down eleven good cops, but that Steve couldn't not do something after denying the guy medical treatment. Couldn't not do something when they needed Cosi for leverage. Even though he's a trained first responder, Danny just talked. Talked about Gabby, for god's sake, waiting for Steve to give it up, not offering to help, hardly sparing a glance until the guy sucked in breath and decided to live. 

Steve's hips slow and he tightens his fingers. The sand is scraping too much now, but he's coiled so taut he can't stop, and can't stop his head, can't stop watching Danny drop onto his knees.

Steve had actually closed his eyes when the shot rang out and Cosi fell back, painfully aware of Danny expecting death beside him. It had been smart, killing Cosi, he'd have done the same under the circumstances. But Steve would have killed Catherine, too. He was already mourning her as he ordered SWAT on the ground and cut the zipties and threw his career away, knowing, knowing she'd be dead the second the call dropped anyway, but still he couldn't stop himself.

And then, somehow, it had all turned around. 

He sucks in three, four, great sobbing breaths, chest aching as the salt air pinches his lungs, hands coming up to cover his wet face. Twisting, he kicks out at nothing, struggles to stay quiet as he tries to find his breath again, until he coughs, coughs again, sits up and lets the ocean swoop down inside him, lets it weigh him down, push him down under the hush-hiss and cold damp spray as the wind shifts. 

His dick softens as he calms and his body loosens, even as he thinks again about his phone sitting on the kitchen counter next to his keys. He wipes his stinging eyes, finds his shirt to brush some of the sand from his face. Letting his gaze follow the darker on dark roll of the water stealing up on him, he banks his need for Danny. It's not like he's alone. 

Cath didn't die. Steve did it right this time, even if he did it all wrong. She's safe in his bed.

Danny's safe in his, with Gabby for company, if there's any justice in the aloha gods' hearts. 

Tomorrow afternoon he'll take Five-0 off line for the Pee Wee Championship's third game and have both of them safe beside him for awhile.

Steve stretches his arms above his head, shifts his burning shoulders into the pillow of his shirt, and stares back at the stars, his thoughts drifting to the lines of Wo Fat's face, his hands, the way that he had looked at him through the shattered glass of his cell.

 

_**4.** _

Men are calling across the docks as the Chinese freighter prepares for departure. The water churning under its engines stirs the diesel fumes into the general fishy stench. He's seen both friends and families off in a hundred ports, probably more, but he's never felt this torn about someone leaving him.

Mom and Kono and Adam wave one last time and then disappear into the foredeck.

Catherine's arms are crossed as she watches Steve watching her. She's waiting for him to invite her home. Waiting for him to pat Danny on the shoulder and give Chin a hug and climb into her car. 

He does hug Chin, muttering a traditional comfort in his ear, but when they part, Steve slips his hands into his pockets and continues to stand there until Chin straddles his bike and starts the engine. He sketches a wave, Danny doing the same beside him, and sees Chin down the road before he offers Cath a half hug and a kiss on the cheek. She's frowning at him, but he ignores it and strides to the driver's side of the Camaro. After a moment's hesitation, Danny drops in behind him. 

Steve's never seen love up close as an adult. He thinks he remembers his parents being in love, like Disney love, the kind Grace brings over on DVD, but now that he knows Doris, he's not so sure he's remembering it right. Kono acts like she knows what she's doing, what she wants, that it's enough to leave them all behind. Like her love for Adam is an imperative, a given, as inevitable as an explosion following a lit fuse. 

She makes him feel out-of-control. Like he doesn't know what he's doing. Or why. All he knows right now is that if he gets in this car and starts it, Danny will be there beside him. That's his imperative, his given, as inevitable as an explosion following a lit fuse. 

Wrenching the door open, Steve slides down into the car's leather embrace and starts the engine.

He watches Catherine watch him. 

He slams his door just as Danny closes his. 

Tearing his eyes away from Cath, Steve shifts the transmission into drive, checks his mirrors, and eases out to the edge of the lot. He gives her time to get to her car, waits until the Corvette roars into life. He doesn't want to lose her. He doesn't want to piss her off. She's here for a reason. He just needs his own space tonight. And he needs to talk to Wo Fat. Delivering him to the feds might have gotten Steve out of his deal, but with Mom in the wind, he's certain that's off the table. He hopes it doesn't affect any progress that may have been made on his behalf regarding Catherine's duty. 

On the highway, following the curves of the shore, steadied by Danny's solid presence beside him and the leather grip of the wheel beneath his hands, he lets himself forget for awhile.

 

_**3.**_

"Using military resources to help a friend. Uh, isn't that risky?" Savannah Walker asks off-camera.

"Well, Steve and my CO go way back, so he cuts him some slack."

Steve pauses the video and studies Cath's face. While it wasn't the best press for the Navy, she did an admirable job skirting the truth as she answered Savannah's questions. But the awkwardness of her reply might let him leverage the politics of public opinion and media coverage into forcing his superiors to re-assign her. Now that she's broken trail for Intel into the Governor's office and onto Five-O, someone else can walk it. He presses play.

Something tight lets go in his chest when she stumbles on the question about their relationship and refuses to acknowledge her status as his girlfriend. At least Steve can be sure now that they are on the same page. Her proximity and their new working relationship since she's been stationed at Pearl has changed the way they interact. He finds himself ever more protective of her while still trying to keep his distance. 

Danny's been trying to stay out of their way and has been mostly successful. The unexpected moments when it catches up to them are brutal. They leave bruises on each other, physical and emotional. Steve wants hours with Danny, not minutes. He doesn't know how much longer he can compartmentalize without professional help. 

On the screen, he is hustling down the trail and then he's standing over Wo Fat. 

Watching himself looking down that barrel, his finger on the trigger, he's aware that fifty pounds of body weight, three months of therapy, the recovery of his mother, and traversing the gulf of Chin Ho's grief make him a vastly different man than he was when he brought Wo Fat in the last time. It was harder this time to pull his finger off. Except. He had Savannah's soft, floral scent in his nose, a civilian camera at his back, and two unexplained bullets in a safe house floor.

He blows out a hard breath and shakes himself mentally loose. Wo Fat, still under heavy sedation, has been moved to a terrorist cell under heavy police guard. Five-O is between cases and it's close to midnight. He wants an image to sleep on. He takes a large swallow of his last finger of whiskey, kicks back on the couch, and hits fastback until he's near the beginning again. 

"No. No, no no," Danny says, left index finger held up in askance. "No, no. Please. I know the governor thinks this is good PR, but I disagree, strongly, so please," he continues, whole hand now fully engaged in Danny speak, tone strained with extra politeness. "Keep the camera out of my face and we'll be fine. Please." He throws both hands up. "I said pleeease," he warns, and then swaggers away with that damn lilt he takes on when he's pissed and trying hard to be courteous anyway. "Thank you." He places a slow hand on Kono, as if apologizing for leaving her there, gives the camera a princess wave, and throws another 'thanks' over his shoulder before sauntering on into his office.

Steve feels stupid grinning in the dark of his living room, all by himself, but he can't stop. He hits rewind, sips at the remainder of his whiskey and watches Danny's finger go up again as he turns, the 'no's spilling out of his mouth, followed by the 'please' and Steve closes his eyes, imagining something else entirely.

 

_**2.** _

Turning away from Doris, Steve stalks into the next room and rips the throw rug up. He sees it immediately, the irregular lines in the wood floor. He'd bought this rug in his hands, to replace the one soaked in his father's blood, and been blind to the possibilities of that repaired square. If he has ever thought about it, and he doesn't know that he has, his thought would've been 'old house.'.

He can't stay there and not implode. The microfiche, the repository of Doris's secret life, the proof of her duplicity, the proof of other agents' deeds and misdeeds, is gone. He doesn't subscribe to the special brand of crazy that requires that kind of stash and can't access half his own reports even if he did. But if he did? He'd bury it far from his ohana. 

His rage flares higher every time his brain circles back around to the fact that for over thirty years, she hid hers here, under their feet. Under his feet and Mary's and Dad's. His heart double-thumps when he thinks of Grace darting through to get to the beach. How could Mom ever have brought it into the house? Moved it to hers? But now it's gone, and along with it any influence it held.

Doris isn't safe. He's not safe. Thank God Mary's seen fit to heed his advice and stay off the islands. As angry as he is at Catherine for playing him, for keeping his Mom's secrets, she's all that stands between him and conscription into the deep, dark depths of ghost ops. He has too much to lose to cut her off.

The air outside is thick and wet from the afternoon rain. The heavy, full sweetness of the singapore trees he helped his mom plant when he was ten assaults him. He can't help but stop and breath it in, the scent that meant home whenever he landed here. He remembers standing just here, wiping the tears from his cheeks before he sucked it up and climbed into the waiting limo to suffer dry-eyed through her funeral. 

He sits in his truck a full five minutes before he thumbs Catherine's name on speed dial. "The break, twenty minutes," he croaks when she picks up. He ends the call before she says anything at all.

The break is windy. In her fitted black dress, Cath is silhouetted against the blues of sky and sea. The late afternoon light follows the curves of her face and the freshening breeze feathers her hair. Steve's breath catches as he walks to her. He doesn't want her in the middle, between his ohana and the rest of his fucked up life. 

He's the reason Navy Intel tapped her for this job and it's eating him up inside. She can't move on anymore than he can right now. Steve knows she has every right to withhold whatever information she thinks she needs to or that Intel doesn't want passed on. She's got lead on this. He's subordinate and on 'need to know'. 

And his damn mother is the most manipulative person he's ever met. But he still wants her. Wants her in his life. Wants to know why she's hiding behind her lies. Wants her to trust him. Wants to trust her. She's his mother and he missed her, still misses her, with a fierceness that cripples him. He hasn't really pushed back, yet. He set the tone for Cath's relationship with her and Cath walked right into it. 

She searches his face. He works his jaw, trying to jar his words free, but she speaks first. "I am so sorry." Her sincerity wounds him. All of this. It's so fucked up. "I should have told you."

There's nothing to be done about it but hang on to each other. Her lips are tentative on his until he gives in, relaxes under her touch. She fits herself to him and he wraps his arms around her. The bitch of it is that he loves her.

 

_**1.** _

Steve is listening for the rumble of the Camero with the TV off. Catherine took off a few minutes after Danny and Grace, suggesting he watch the rest of Chucky on his own, so that tomorrow night he can focus.

He goes to the door and waits, knowing Danny will come barreling in since the Corvette is gone, and Danny doesn't disappoint. Taking Steve in, he stops dead. He's taken the cape off, but the collar of his black polo is still turned up. The door swings closed behind him and slows and stops. Danny reaches back and taps it shut.

"Lock it."

Turning, Danny does, but then remains there, facing the door, hand on the lock. After a long moment, he drops his forehead onto the door and takes a big breath.

"Danny."

Danny just shakes his head. 

Steve steps up behind him, hand lifted. He hesitates and then places it on Danny's back. Danny sighs and his shoulders drop.

Crowding him, Steve soaks in his heat and lets himself relax against Danny's broad back until his own forehead is resting on the crown of Danny's head and he's breathing in the mango scent of Danny's latest brand of gel. 

"I don't..." Danny starts, but Steve stops him by placing his hands over Danny's and then moving them, placing them on the door to either side of Danny's head. He leaves their fingers interlaced and uses his size to press Danny against the door before he nuzzles under Danny's collar and onto the nape of his neck. The noise Danny makes sends Steve's blood rushing and his hips jerk hard, without thought. 

"What," Danny gasps. "Was that?"

"You don't know?" Steve breathes and thrusts again, on purpose. He has to scrunch his eyes closed even tighter, though, to stop himself from any further movement.

Danny pants. Steve lets his hips go and slides up against that enticing ass again. Danny groans and presses back.

"No," Danny says, sounding choked. "You...Cath..."

"I told you," Steve grinds out, rotating his pelvis and settling more firmly against Danny. "She's not--"

"Your girlfriend," Danny grunts. "Fuck." 

"Not yet," Steve says. He tilts his head to burrow under Danny's jaw. Instead of curling up, Danny stretches for him. Steve opens his mouth and the bloom of Danny's skin saturates his tongue. He bites down, wanting more.

"Shit," Danny whispers. "Fuck. Me."

Steve releases him to breathe and slides against him again. Jerks up. "If you want."

"You were," Danny says, "making out with her before we interrupted. So why were you blue balling me in the kitchen?"

Steve sighs and lets all his weight fall onto Danny. 

"You're, uh, squishing me," Danny complains after a minute or so as their bodies cool.

Steve straightens, letting go of Danny's hands and steps back, but not away.

Danny scrapes around until his back's to the door and he's facing Steve. "What's wrong?"

"We have a thing," Steve sighs.

"Yeah. I know. I respect that, considering." He waves a hand between them.

"She's not my girlfriend, Danny."

Frowning, Danny sweeps his eyes down and back up again. Steve wants to run, but steels himself, instead. It's a conversation they need to have. Too much has happened. Danny's lips part, but he just licks them and looks down again. This time his eyes stay on the floor. "I'm sorry," he finally says.

"What?

"I know--"

"You don't. You don't know," Steve explodes, spinning away and halfway back again. He can't do this anymore. He has to tell him. "Yeah. We have a thing. It's mutual, Danny. But we're not... and now, especially not now..." He scrubs his fingers through his hair because he can't. He can't be telling Danny this, he's not allowed to, but he has to. 

"What, Steven?" 

"I asked a lot of favors, Danny. When I brought Doris back. And then Wo Fat escaped and there was Wit Sec to deal with and Catherine." Steve looks up, squares his shoulders to face Danny, still backed up to the door. "Catherine did something for me. She got in trouble for it and I had to fix it." Danny frowns at him. Steve feels compelled to explain, but there's nothing more to say. "I had to fix it, Danny."

Danny holds his hands up, palms out, and inches forward, like Steve's skittish, or deranged, and maybe he is, he can't even, now that it's required, treat Cath like he should, like he wants to. She still...she means everything to him. But so does Danny. 

"Slow down, Steve," Danny says. "What do you mean, you had to fix it?"

"Cath hustled this agent from Wit Sec, Channing, and used the info he gave her to crack his passcode and find out where Doris went, which was..."

"Right here. I know. So?"

"A couple days later, they caught up."

"Wit Sec."

"Yeah. They suspended Channing. Took his badge. Went to Intel about Catherine once he ID'ed her."

"And?" Danny bites out, his hands waving. "You fixed this how?"

"I agreed to some stuff."

"Like what, Steven?"

"Like convincing Denning to let me attach Cath to Five-O as a liaison."

"That hasn't been a bad thing, works out in our favor."

Steve nods and tries to shut up.

"So?"

Steve shifts on his feet. He can't do this. He backs away. Danny lunges and catches his bicep as he turns. Steve shrugs him off and strides through the room and out onto the lanai. He drags in deep breaths of the raw seabreeze, glad Danny hasn't followed. The rough lap of the waves pulls him out onto the lawn, into the rustling dark. 

He knows the instant Danny ventures out after him. Steve lets him come, waits until Danny holds out a cold Longboard to acknowledge him by taking it and stepping over to sink onto the further adirondack. Danny perches on the other, staring at him in the weak moonlight.

Lifting his beer, Steve drinks half the bottle in one go. 

"What's the catch?"

"Intel won't acknowledge her if a case goes bad. That's on Five-O's dime."

"Okay. What else."

"She's my bodyguard, Danny. Anything that goes down, she's with me."

"Ah."

Steve frowns at Danny's tone. "Ah! What the fuck does that mean?"

"Just that other people realize your worth."

"My worth?"

It's surprising that the bottle in Danny's hand doesn't break, he clenches his fist so hard. "What is your damage," he hisses. "You're a valuable asset, the Navy's spent a ton of money training you. You've completed multiple successful missions. You brought in the Hesses and you brought in Wo Fat. You brought in your mother."

"That was them," Steve yells, jumping up. "That was Joe White. That's why they have leverage on me now!"

"Sit down."

"No."

"At least lower your voice unless you want your neighbors knowing what's what."

Steve growls and sits back down. He empties his bottle and lets it fall onto the sand. Danny holds out his and Steve takes it and drains it.

"Now. What's the issue?" Danny asks.

"Cath's not just attached to Five-O, she's attached to me."

"Not seeing the downside here, Steve. You like her and she's got great skills. She gets us info we wouldn't have access to without her."

"She's surveillance, Danny. When she's not with me, there's a tail. There's a guy parked down the road right now in something non-descript and at least two out there," he grates, sweeping his arm out to encompass the beach and water. "They don't trust my mother and they don't trust me."

"They?"

"Navy Intel."

Studying the waves, Danny runs both hands over his hair to smooth it and then rubs the back of his neck. "Korea."

"Yeah."

"Japan."

"Joe's been redacted. He was never there. I blew her cover when I started making calls to bring her home. Which is exactly what Intel wanted me to do."

"Okay. Still. Cath's your girl. She's been helpful. Those guys," he says, circling a hand at the unknowns on Steve's six. "Let them try to keep up. Having Catherine legitimately in our pocket isn't--"

"It is. She's a pawn."

"You love her."

"We've been friends a long time."

"But you don't want benefits anymore because the Navy's using your relationship to their own benefit now?"

Jumping up again, Steve walks out towards the water. The sigh Danny heaves is big enough for Steve to hear before Danny follows. They stand ankle deep in the surf with their hands in their pockets. He doesn't know how to explain himself. He doesn't want to hurt Catherine. She doesn't see this deal the same way he does. She sees an opportunity to deepen their relationship while still doing the jobs they love. But she doesn't know everything.

"Steve," Danny says after too much time has slipped past and Steve's still tense as a hooked line. 

That's what it feels like. He's been caught, hook, line, and sinker. "I let them chip me."

"What?"

"After the boat hijacking, they realized no amount of surveillance was going to keep me on the radar, so they chipped me."

"With what? An ID marker like the dog has?"

"Yeah. And GPS."

"They can fucking do that?"

"Yes. Yes, they can."

"Cath have one?"

Steve shakes his head. 

"So, she's not your girlfriend. She's your keeper for now. Damage control," Danny says, feeling the words out."But, you, um." He looks down, thinks for a second. "Still care for her and you're still friends. With benefits."

He nods. His skin crawls, thinking about the chip, the eyes on him, his blip on a screen somewhere. He's still nodding as his knees weaken. Danny catches his arm and slows his descent onto the sand. Steve covers his tearing eyes with both hands. His fucking traitor heart keeps beating in his chest. It skips and then leaps when Danny makes a non-committal noise and plops down beside him. 

Steve lifts his head and wraps his arms around his knees. 

They sit shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, in silence. 

Eventually, Danny lies back, raising his arms to pillow his head on his linked hands. Steve glances over. Danny's eyes are closed, his face relaxed. He knows Steve's looking at him, though, or guesses. He lets his lids slide open just enough for the light to catch the glint of his eyes from under his thick lashes as he meets Steve's eyes. "What are we?" he mutters.

Steve wants to pretend he didn't hear him, but he's caught on Danny's sleepy gaze.

Danny knocks his knee into Steve's. "Hey."

"I can't lose you, Danny. That's what we are."

When Danny only closes his eyes in reply, Steve turns his attention back to the ocean and throttles his thoughts until they're gone. He watches the moonlight wrinkling across the ripples of the bay and listens to Danny's breathing as it slows and deepens.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _The Devil went down to Georgia. He was lookin' for a soul to steal._   
> _He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind. He was willing to make a deal_   
> _When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot._   
> _And the Devil jumped upon a hickory stump and said "Boy, let me tell you what."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player, too._  
>  _And if you'd care to take a dare I'll make a bet with you._  
>  _Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the Devil his due._  
>  _I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul 'cause I think I'm better than you."_
> 
>  
> 
> _The boy said, "My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin,_  
>  _But I'll take your bet; and you're gonna regret 'cause I'm the best there's ever been."_
> 
>  
> 
> _Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard._  
>  _'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia and the Devil deals the cards._  
>  _And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold,_  
>  _But if you lose the devil gets your soul. ___
> 
>  
> 
> _  
>   
> _
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _Written in response to Steve and Catherine's inconsistent chemistry. And I keep wondering why Catherine is included in Five-0 raids/undercover work, even when on duty, when they have a whole police force at their beck and call. I get the intial foray, when Steve calls her to stay with his Mom, but after...? IIRC, Show never actually said. So, y'know, this fic is technically-cannot-be- refuted-by-canon-so-far FANWANK :-)_  
> _
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _I have two more timestamps in the works for the Brother 'verse. Both are happier and both are set earlier than this one. I'm not ready to post those, but I'm working on them :-)__  
> 


End file.
